


Love Me Like the World Is Ending

by icandrawamoth



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (why is hair touching not a tag - I need this in my life), Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Comforting Katsuki Yuuri, Crying, Crying Victor Nikiforov, Discussion of Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Victor Nikiforov, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Katsuki Yuuri, Post-Season/Series 01, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-01 23:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11496585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: Even in the zombie apocalypse, some days are worse than others. Yuuri comes to understand how this new world affects he and Victor differently.





	Love Me Like the World Is Ending

**Author's Note:**

> ~~I can't belive I actually wrote this and stuck it in my Complete folder _a month ago_ but totally forgot to post it... DX~~

The sun is just beginning to set, and they're going to need to find shelter for the night soon. All in all, it's been a good day: they'd found a grocery store that hadn't been completely ransacked and filled their bags with fresh food supplies. Then a sporting goods shop had revealed a full box of bullets hidden beneath a shelf, probably kicked out of sight in an early skirmish. They hadn't even met more than two rf three singular zombies in either place.

And that's doubly lucky, because Yuuri doesn't think Victor could handle a horde today. The older man has been quieter than usual since he got up that morning, and the bags under his eyes are dark. Yuuri wonders if he slept at all while he himself was on watch, but when he'd asked, he'd only gotten a grunt in return.

So, a place to sleep then. He starts keeping a closer eye on the surrounding buildings - instead of merely watching for dangers, also calculating their best chance at a safe place to hunker down. It's a skill he's developed quickly in the days since it happened: always having to divide his attention. If you don't always keep an eye out for danger in this world, you die. They've certainly learned that.

The streets are unfamiliar, so they have no set destination in mind, other than the ultimate goal: Madrid. They'd been in Barcelona when it happened and fled as soon as they could, and since they've heard rumors of a commune in Spain's capital where people are rallying and fighting back. Rumors they can only hope are true, because what other hope do they have?

Yuuri looks behind him to check on Victor, and there he is, gun drooping toward the ground rather than at attention, and Yuuri frowns, worrying. Then Victor meets his eyes and gives him a weak smile, righting his aim and jerking his head in the direction they're going as if to admonish Yuuri for faltering.

Yuuri turns back and surveys the landscape, pausing when he notices something a few streets over. A building like ones he's seen before, all around the world... He hurries their pace and hears Victor huff as he struggles to catch up.

It doesn't take long to reach the street it's on, and Yuuri's smile is genuine when he reads the sign on the front of the large, domed building. It's in Spanish, of course, but he knows what it means: _Pista de Patinaje._ Skating rink.

When he turns again, Victor is blinking up at the sign, clearly having recognized it, too, but Yuuri can't read his expression. “It'll be like being home for the night, right?” Yuuri asks, holding out a hand to him.

Again, Victor doesn't respond, but he takes Yuuri's hand, squeezing lightly, and lets the other man lead him inside. The doors are unlocked of course; in fact, most of the glass is shattered entirely. Like he does with so much he sees, Yuuri wonders what it was like here when it happened. And then he brushes the thought away, because when it comes down to it, of course he really doesn't want to know. Memories of what happened back in Barcelona are already too much.

“Let's make sure it's clear, and then we can rest, okay?” Yuuri says.

Victor nods and moves off in one direction. Yuuri watches him go, chewing his lip for a moment before heading in the other. Yuuri prowls around the rinkboards, letting his senses take in everything. It smells of mildew, the ice having melted after the power grid went down, and the space between the boards is dotted with large puddles. He flicks on the flashlight attached to his gun and sweeps it across the floor. Benches are overturned, doors to bathrooms and lounges and offices left akimbo. Everyone left in a hurry. It's no different than anywhere else.

The place is empty, though, as far he can tell. There are no sounds of shuffling feed, no moans or growls. He closes every door behind him as he checks the rooms, then meets Victor back on the other side of the rink.

“All clear?” Yuuri asks, and Victor nods.

Yuuri finds an empty stretch of wall with a good view in either direction and sits down. Honestly, they'd probably be better off in one of the side rooms with less attack vectors, but then again this way they have a better means of escape if there is trouble. Avoiding places with only one way out is another important lesson they learned early on. Plus, now that he's next to a rink again for the first time in weeks, Yuuri almost can't bear to leave it. He can feel memories of his old life, one he thought he'd almost forgotten in such a short time, starting to float to the surface.

Victor is still standing, gun limp in his hands, staring out across the rink. Yuuri can't see his face, but he can imagine what it looks like: tired, wistful, longing.

Yuuri pulls his backpack into his lap and reaches inside, rooting through the food they'd gathered earlier. “Vitya,” he says gently when the other startles at the noise, “come and eat with me.”

Victor trudges over and drops down beside him, gun across his knees in a ready position. Yuuri opens a can of ravioli and hands it to him along with a plastic fork and bottle of water. For a long moment, Victor merely stares at the implements in his hands before starting to eat mechanically.

Yuuri's worry ratchets up another notch. He watches Victor closely as he eats his own cold meal, the rest of his attention still on their surroundings. Nowhere is really safe, even after a thorough check; a zombie or another dangerous human or animal could appear at any time.

After only a few bites, Victor holds the can out to Yuuri.

“Victor, you have to eat,” Yuuri admonishes.

“I'm not hungry.” Victor's voice is soft; rough. Yuuri wonders how many hours it's been since he heard it.

The younger man chews his lip, takes the can. He pours the remnants into a container and stuffs it back into the bag before looking at Victor again. It's time. “Talk to me, Vitya,” he says gently. “I can tell something's wrong.” It seems stupid in the grand scheme of things, but he thinks he'll know what he means.

Victor looks away. “Yuuri...”

“Victor.” Yuuri puts a hand on his arm, trying to draw him back. “You're worrying me. We're all each other has now, and if there's something wrong, I want to help.”

Victor looks back at him, blue eyes soft and dull, and his lips twitch like they're trying to smile but can't. “I'm tired, Yuuri.”

“Sleep, then. I'll take the first watch.” Yuuri shoves his bag and the food aside, and pats his lap, tugging at Victor's arm. His heart skips a beat when he follows compliantly, laying down and resting his head in Yuuri's lap. “Rest,” Yuuri repeats, “and you'll feel better tomorrow.”

Victor's back shudders with a sudden, harsh laugh. “I don't think so.”

Yuuri squeezes his eyes closed for a second, because he knows what Victor means. No amount of sleep will make this any better. But what choice do they have?

He doesn't know what to say, so he does instead. He slips a hand into Victor's silver hair, not as smooth and shiny as it used to be, and longer, too, but still the same. He cards his fingers through it gently and listens to Victor sigh.

And then Yuuri's breath catches as the sigh becomes something else – a sob. He can feel Victor trembling against him as he cries, soft, hopeless sounds, and Yuuri's heart aches. It's not the first time, but far more often than not, it's been the other way around: Victor holding him while he cries, unable to deal with the harsh realities of this new world. But now...

Victor shifts, rolls over in his lap to look up at him, and Yuuri lets his hands drop from his hair. Victor stares up, eyes shining with tears, tracks on his dirty face he doesn't bother to wipe away. His voice shakes when he asks, “Yuuri, how are you dealing with this so well?”

Yuuri is taken aback, because he hadn't thought he was. He'd spent weeks after it happened devastated and utterly lost, not knowing what to do, but he and Victor had found their way, he'd learned he'd have to be tough to survive, and now it feels suddenly like they've changed places.

“I have you,” are the words that come out of his mouth, and Victor laughs mirthlessly.

“Look at me,” he grinds out. “It's not because of me.”

“Victor-”

“Talk to me, Yuuri,” Victor parrots his earlier words back at him without humor. “Tell me.”

Yuuri thinks. He has to tell him something, wants to. If that will snap Victor out of whatever this is... “I hate this world,” he finds himself saying, “but...I guess there are aspects of it that work for me.” He slides his fingers into Victor's hair again, watches him give a long blink as he sinks into the touch. “I miss skating. It was what I wanted to do with my life, just like you. But...I guess it's not so bad, in a way, having the pressure off. From the public and from people. Though living like this is a different kind of pressure.” Yuuri trails off. It's true that his anxiety doesn't bother him now like it did before. It's almost like he has no time for it, or like maybe he's accepted it now that it helps him survive. Rather than worrying about minor things that never had any chance of happening, it refuses to let him forget things that could actually kill him. It must be different for Victor, he's starting to realize, that this is harder on him in some ways than it is on Yuuri. “Anyway, like I said, you're here, and we're still together, and I think I could survive anything like that.”

Victor sighs, but his eyes blink again, then remain closed. “I wish you wouldn't say that.” His speech is slurred with fast-approaching sleep. “If something happens to me...”

“It won't,” Yuuri tells him in no uncertain terms. “I'll protect you.” He can't bear to think of the alternative. He knows it's unhealthy to think it even now, but what would be the point of continuing on to Madrid alone?

The ghost of a smile crosses Victor's lips as he finally surrenders to sleep with a murmured, “ _Ya lyublyu tebya_ , Yuuri.”

Yuuri leans over and kisses him as gently as he can, not taking his fingers from his hair. “I love you, too, Vitya.”

He leans back against the wall, surveying the quickly-darkening rink. He'll have to light a candle soon so he can see to keep watch, but not yet. Victor needs all the rest he can get, and he's not ready to disturb him.


End file.
